


the Dad Instinct

by longforgottenhymn



Series: reconciliation [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt/Comfort, I love them so much, IronDad and SpiderSon, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Homecoming, Pre-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Protective Tony Stark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-21
Updated: 2019-02-21
Packaged: 2019-11-01 23:56:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17877215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/longforgottenhymn/pseuds/longforgottenhymn
Summary: When Peter encounters a threat he isn't sure he can take on, he reaches out for advise. Meanwhile Tony is anxious over the new Accords meeting with Cap and sends Spider-man some over-qualified help. Things still manage to go south.Wherein Peter relives a trauma and Tony picks up the pieces afterward.





	the Dad Instinct

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first spider-man and iron man fanfic!!! Im new to the subfandom but have adored the mcu for years - i dunno why i've only just discovered how great irondad and spiderson is??? I wanna slap my past self lol.
> 
> Anyway, hope u enjoy :)

It started with some mad-man deciding to open fire in the Children’s Section at a library. Fortunately, no one was reported as injured thirty minutes later when the news channels honed in on it, but the police still moved in with most of their resources to keep the fatalities to none. It was a good distraction. With everyone’s attention elsewhere, a series of other crimes started to quietly take form.

    Peter hadn’t texted Happy as frequently after the whole Vulture-Homecoming thing. Mr. Stark had offered him a place on the Avengers team and he’d declined, so he’d figured he should lay low with the _I’m available for missions_ reminders. It would be very contradicting of him. Still, he checked in once in awhile (meaning several times a week) and left the mandatory voicemail. But mostly, he was content with just swinging across Queens on his own, stopping small crimes and helping in any way he could.

    Peter hadn’t texted Happy several times a day since Homecoming, not until now.

    ‘Come on, come on…’ he muttered to himself as he tried to discreetly tap away another message. He hadn’t bothered Happy this much the whole autumn, but he hadn’t encountered anything as serious either.

    It was like a bad case of deja vu. He still remembered vividly the first time he had come in contact with modified alien tech - that too had included masked robbers in dark non-descript clothes, emptied ATMs in a bank and recklessly dangerous weapons. And it had ended with the block in shambles and mr Delmar almost losing his life as well as his shop. Peter was going to make sure that the event wouldn’t repeat itself, especially now that it was daytime and more people were moving about.

   To make the matter worse, it seemed like the criminals were keeping hostages this time.

****

    **Peter:** _plz respond_

_urgent!_

_the guns are like the vultures they might be working together_

_i hear multiple hostages_

****

    He tried to get closer to the bank’s small window - the building was much more discreet than the nighttime robbery behind transparent glass walls this reminded him of - without seeming suspicious. Had his hearing not been enhanced, he never would have picked up on the commotion inside; the frightened tears of the receptionist, the shouts of the criminals’ demands and the shuffle of cash. Neither would he have noticed the eerie sound of a gun that definitely wasn’t an ordinary one.

    Peter hung back against the cool stone surface, leaning carefully forward to try sneak a peek inside. His shoulder chaffed loudly as it dragged across the wall. He peeked through the window. There they were - two of the men in ski masks, waving their weapons around to shepherd the small crowd of people into one corner. A third one followed an employee further into the building. The guns were oddly shaped, glowing faintly purple. They emitted a low, almost unhearable buzzing; the same sound Peter had picked up when he caught Toomes’ men testing out their firearms under that bridge.

    Daylight and hostages meant less low-key, and though the window was small more people than him had begun to notice. Which meant police would soon be coming in and more attention would be given, meaning a crowd would be gathering closeby the Chitauri guns. And that meant possible multiple fatalities if one of them was fired.

    Spider-man’s fame was rising and he knew that if he entered in the suit, the criminals would shoot first and ask later. If they were experienced and kept calm, they might only hit him - if not, the whole block like last time.

    He tried to take a picture of the commotion inside, but the window reflected the light from the unusually bright sun and refused to do anything else but cast back his own frustrated face. No matter how he tilted and refocused the camera he couldn’t quite get a good shot.

    ‘Oh man,’ he sighed. Though it hurt his pride a bit to admit, he needed at least advise on this. Seeing as mr Stark had thought him fit to join the Avengers, he figured he could admit a tiny bit of uncertai- _thoughtfulness_ to the man without damaging his reputation too much. Besides, with any luck, this time he might actually get out before a building was dropped on him.

_No no no Peter, don’t go there, keep it together now._

    Happy still wasn’t answering him. This left Peter with two options; go in as Spider-man and hope for the best, or call the emergency number. He’d named it that because mr Stark did not like to be disturbed by kids on his private phone, in his own words. Not if it wasn’t very, very important.

 _Okay Peter. Alright Spider-man. Can you get those people out of there without casualties? Because if you aren’t sure then it’s your pride against the lives of all these people._ He tried Happy’s number again, hanging up when it went to voicemail. _Damn._

    He remembered mr Stark telling him that catching Toomes’ men was beneath the Avengers’ payroll after he’d fished Peter out of that lake. Then he remembered his mentor calling the FBI and appearing himself at the Staten Island ferry to stop the same men. It didn’t help his dilemma much.

_Am I insecure enough to call Tony Stark?_

    As it turned out, he didn’t need to answer that question. A tap on the other side of the glass sent his spider-sense into overload and his head snapped up. One of the masked men was standing on the other side, his eyes glinting with a cold, humourless grin. The gun he held was pointed at the huddling group of hostages. He cocked his head to one side, gesturing for the entrance where another guy stood waiting. Peter knew what they wanted. He nodded mutely, complying. _How did I not notice that before?_ His body usually warned him when a threat was approaching on its own, yet now it had been silent until the moment it happened. He filed that away to worry about later.

    He kept his hands behind his back typing away and (hopefully) sending another message to Happy before locking the screen. Then he arrived at the door. There were still at least one gun pointed at the people inside, so Peter forced himself to stay calm even as the door was slammed open and one of the robbers put the weapon to his head. The buzzing vibrated through the skin on his skull making his bones tingle uncomfortably.

    ‘Everybody listen up! No one calls the cops or I kill this punk, got it?!’ A hand came down on his shoulder and tightened to the verge of bruising. A group of builders across the street began approaching with concerned faces only to stop when the gun was shoved harder against Peter’s temple. He wished he could have dealt with this as Spider-man, not as Peter Parker. Peter Parker didn’t have superhuman powers after all.

    ‘Don’t move. If I so much as see a cop car around here I’ll blow the fucking building.’

    The guy lead him backwards, inside, and shoved him into the corner with the others.

    ‘Sit down over there.’

    ‘Yeah, right, okay m-mr criminal…’ He slumped down the wall where the other people sat and tried to make himself as small and unthreatening as possible. He kept his eyes down but glanced up at the robbers as often as he could without it becoming suspicious. The buzz from the alien tech was louder now that he was closer to it.

    His backpack was ripped away from his shoulders along with his phone. They were thrown into an opposite corner - he now had no Spidersuit and no way of contacting anyone. He’d have to lay low and hope for the best. At least until he had backup or a solid plan.

    

 **Peter:** _happy they found me_

_theyre takin me_

_im goin in_

****

* * *

 

 

‘Boss, Happy Hogan is calling. Should I patch him through?’ FRIDAY asked as Tony finished tinkering on his newest Iron Man helmet.

    ‘Yeah, put him through.’

    He didn’t even bother to look up from his work as he answered - he considered just ignoring it and continue on undisturbed, but decided he was feeling generous today.

    ‘The kid got into trouble,’ Happy’s voice voice rang through the workshop, going straight to business. Tony shook off the antsy feeling he always got whenever those words came up. The kid was good, strong even - he’d be fine.

    ‘I thought that was his thing.’

    ‘Real trouble this time. At least he seems to think so. Thinks he’s run into the same guys that tried to hijack moving day or something.’

    ‘He caught those guys.’

    ‘Yeah I know, I’m not sure what he means. I’ll send you a screengrab of it, hang on…’

    Tony put down his tools with a sigh. He waited patiently as Happy fumbled with his phone on the other end of the call.

    ‘It’s the button on the left-’

    ‘I’ve got it, I’ve got it. There you go.’

    ‘FRIDAY, display incoming text from Happy.’ The image appeared before him as a hologram. He frowned, gesturing for it to enlarge, reading through Peter’s grammatically incorrect typing.

    ‘So he’s dealing with stolen alien tech again.’

    ‘Yeah, but with hostages this time. Seems like-’

    ‘Wait - did he go in? He says he’s going in, but…’ _They found me, they’re taking me, I’m going in_ did not sound promising.

    ‘FRIDAY, status on Spider-man’s suit.’

    ‘The Spider-man suit is offline.’

    Well, that was unexpected. And a bit worrying.

    ‘What does he mean _I’m going in_ when the suit’s offline?’

    ‘Beats me.’ Happy made a small coughing sound, almost like he was trying to push down some unspoken emotion.

    ‘He’ll be fine, Hap, don’t sweat it.’

    ‘It’s just, you know… last time he went against modified weapons without his suit a building dropped on him.’

    Tony’s heart painfully skipped a beat. ‘He… what?’

    ‘Oh. I didn’t tell you about that?’

    ‘ _No,_ you didn’t. What do you mean a building dropped- he wouldn’t have survived that!’

    ‘He’s tough, uh… said he just needed to take it easy for a few days afterwards. I offered to get him checked out but he pulled the _I’m enhanced_ card on me. I thought he’d told you. I told him he should tell you. You sure he didn’t tell you?’

    ‘Yes, I think I’d remember that.’

    Anger flared in his chest even though this wasn’t Happy’s fault. Maybe Parker really had shaken it off easily, but who knew with that kid? He was far too much of a suffer-in-silence type for his own good.

    ‘Alright Happy, I’ll take care of it.’ Tony ended the call without waiting for a response, turning his attention to FRIDAY instead. He absentmindedly massaged his chest with one hand, trying to see past how it constricted and clenched. The kid would be the death of him. ‘Hey, who was it I heard sulking at breakfast? Something about being bored and wanting to take the new Quinjet out for a spin.’

    ‘Clint Barton seems to fit your criteria. He is currently on his way to the training facilities.’

    Already geared up - how convenient. They weren’t on the best of terms after the whole Accords ordeal, but, surprisingly, Barton had been the first one he’d been able to trust again afterwards. He was also the only one currently living here semi-permanently except for Natasha and Rhodey, both of which had been out of town and were currently on their ways back.

    ‘Hm. Call him.’

    ‘Decided to join me?’ Clint asked hopefully. There was a hint of wariness in his tone but that was warranted given the circumstances. ‘We could still squeeze in some punching before Cap and the rest join us.’

    Team Rogers were touching down in just an hour. Tony had been hiding away in his workshop all morning trying to forget about it.

    ‘No, but do make sure not to shoot any arrows without supervision. I can send down Rhodey when he gets here if you need a grown up to hold your hand.’

    The billionaire paused for just a moment, the teasing fading out of his voice. Even though the whole Accords ordeal had worked out much better than he could have hoped, the fact that he’d have to look Steve in the eyes again today… they’d never been best friends, but they’d trusted each other. Trusted enough that it hurt when one was shielding the other’s parents’ murderer. And now, if Cap signed the revised Accords, they might be required to live under the same roof again. So that the government had them all in one place and all that shit.

    Tony had founded the construction of the new Avengers facility but he sure as hell wouldn’t stay if Rogers was. Maybe he could buy back Stark Tower. Pepper would have to deal with the media frenzy that would cause.

    He sighed and tried to push those thoughts to the back of his head. It was easy to run away. Maybe he should stay, at least long enough to punch a few holes in Captain America’s perfect smile.

    ‘Haha.’ Clint’s sarcasm drew him back to reality.

    ‘Yeah. Hey, I’ve got something for you if you’ve got nothing better to do.’

    ‘A mission? Hell yeah.’

    Tony rolled his eyes. For a man that was supposed to be one of the best, Clint really did act like a kid that had been grounded and would now finally be free again. The fact that he _had_ been grounded left aside.

    ‘Bank robbery in Queens. And yes, before you ask, you can take the Quinjet, you overgrown child. Might I just remind you that we’re supposed to be happy when there’s no crime, not the other way around? So wipe that grin off your face before you deal with it. Anyway, I’ll send you the details after I’ve gotten a clear on this from the Committee.’

    ‘Bank robbery? Isn’t that…’

    ‘A bit beneath us? Normally it would be but I figured I should start you out small. Let you gain back your trust and all that.’

    ‘I’d say the same to you, Stark.’

    ‘Yeah yeah.’ He waved away the icy tone in the other man’s voice. ‘Seems like these bad guys have been experimenting with Chitauri tech. Multiple hostages.’ He sighed, practically feeling new grey hairs sprouting at the temple. Peter was in there, without his suit. It was too early to admit it aloud but he trusted Barton to bring the kid back alive.

    ‘Be careful,’ Tony added, just for good measure, ‘And don’t break my stuff.’

    ‘Sure mom.

 

* * *

 

 

The robbers already had the ATMs’ cash stuffed into trash bags, and still they didn’t leave. Wouldn’t they want to make an escape before the police got involved? Even though they’d threatened to kill everyone if someone showed up, they must know that undercover cops would come anyway.

    Peter wanted to do something. Not just sit and listen to people crying, a woman with a hand on her pregnant stomach as if to protect her unborn, a tattooed man with red-rimmed eyes, seeming much smaller than he actually was. They were all ordinary people and none of them were used to these kinds of circumstances.

    If he’d had his suit he could’ve gotten them all out of there in no time.

    It must have gone twenty minutes, if not more since he stumbled into the bank. He pondered over how much longer it would take for anyone to show up. The new Avengers facility was upstate - he’d only been there the one time, and the drive took close to two hours. But then again, would the Avengers actually come, or did they think this was too small-scale for them?

    There was some commotion heard from another room; they all looked up when they heard an angry voice approaching, and a third masked man came marching in after a terrified employee with her hands held high in surrender. Peter wondered what had taken them so long - it wasn’t as if this bank had a vault with gold in it or anything. It was small scale with limited customer service.

    He listened to the street noise outside. There were no cars nearby. Everything seemed so suspiciously quiet. The police must be waiting to make their move, any second now.

    The masked men gathered on the other side of the room as the employee who had been gone with one of them sat down on Peter’s left. He turned to listen intently to the criminals’ whispers, trying to mute out the buzzing from the guns and sniffling sounds from the distraught people again.

    ‘There’s another exit.’

    ‘We’re not using it.’

    ‘Listen, we’ve already stalled for half an hour. We ain’t got any more luck than this. The distraction won’t last any longer! She transferred the money to the accounts, yeah? We’re already set for life.’

    ‘Didn’t you hear me? We don’t need to run! With these guns, we got nothing to fear. None. We make someone talk to the cops and tell them to deliver the fifty mil to the doorstep, in cash, then we sneak away. They’re never gonna even try to arrest us. We just tell ‘em again that we blow the building if they do. You know them officers probably all have PTSD since the aliens came, they won’t wanna mess with these.’ The guy patted his gun to emphasise the fact. The buzzing became ominously louder for a few seconds before quieting again.

    ‘I don’t like this… That Spider-man punk took down our dealers singlehandedly. If he shows up, we’re screwed.’

    The third guy, the one who had yet to speak, finally quipped in, ‘Shut up. If we do this, we can have anything in the whole wide world. Anything. We gon’ be rich forever.’

    ‘Unless the Avengers decide to crash the party.’

    ‘Nah. This is Queens, they ain’t gonna be around these parts. And Spider-man? Well, he hasn’t shown up yet so maybe he’s taking a day off. Dude we’ll tell the police to keep him away or we kill everyone in here. It’s gonna be fine.’

    _Shit._ That certainly wasn’t good. Peter’s fingers instinctually folded in on his palm, reaching for the button on his hidden web-shooters. Maybe there was some way to act without revealing his identity as Spider-man… He just needed the guns out of the picture and then it’d be an easy match.

    The robbers were right. This _was_ small-scale.  Peter felt a twinge of embarrassment that he’d actually considered calling mr Stark.

    The door to the front was pushed open and a whistling sound echoed through the hushed building. A hooded guy walked in, seemingly without a care in the world with his sunglasses low on his nose and hands shoved into his pockets.

    ‘Hey! Hands in the air!’

    The new guy looked around in a clueless manner, then reached up as if to remove his glasses but instead fiddled with something in his ear. He was still off-key whistling.

    ‘Sorry gentlemen. Couldn’t hear without my aid on.’

    ‘Hands up, now! Or else we shoot!’

    ‘You a cop? We’ll kill everyone if you are!’

    The people around him screamed as the men aimed their weapons at them but Peter just studied the new-commer intently. There was something about him that made his spider-sense tingle. It was a good feeling though; anticipation mixed with vigilance that didn’t feel dangerous or foreboding. Behind the sunglasses, the man smirked. There was a leathery strap crossing his chest, but something told the teen that it wasn’t attached to a mere bag. No. Those barely obscured pegs behind new-guy’s shoulder were arrowheads.

    ‘Let’s see who can fire first.’

    There was a loud - or at least to him - SHWIP as three arrows were drawn from the quiver and quickly sent flying from the bow that appeared seemingly out of nowhere. They hit the masked men’s hands and all three dropped their weapons with a yell. Peter watched as the bow-wielder quickly dispersed of his hoodie and Hawkeye himself was revealed.

    _Awesome._

The robbers scrambled to find their guns but they were chanceless against the archerer. Three more arrows touched the weapons and sent them skidding across the floor with the force of the impact. Hawkeye threw the bow over his shoulder and practically ran down one of the criminals - Peter knew the man was more than just his arrows, but this was skill beyond anything he had seen before. Quick punches and lunges that were instinctual and almost hard to follow even for him. He was mesmerized by it at first. He would have stayed to watch the fight progress if he hadn’t suddenly remembered the other hostages - his chance to help.

    ‘Alright, alright everybody, follow me out!’

    He helped shocked people stand and maneuver around the fight in the middle of the room. He held the door open and let everyone else escape, watching as Hawkeye took care of the man who tried to grab blindly for someone to use as a human shield. Whenever there was a threat to the others the archer-assassin would whip out an arrow and shoot it without even looking in its direction.

_Wow, I can’t wait to tell Ned about this!_

    The last one out was the pregnant woman who Peter had to half-carry. He told one of the other victims to get her to a hospital, just to be sure, then lingered in the doorway. Two of the men were down and Hawkeye was making quick work out of the third one. There was no reason for Spider-man to make an appearance, really.

    The teen unconsciously went to tug on the straps on his backpack where the suit lay. His hand scratched across the soft fabric of his t-shirt instead. _Aw, no… they took it. Well shit._

    The last robber fell to the floor with a groan and didn’t get up. Peter slipped past the heavy door and cringed as it fell shut with a loud  boom, feeling his cheeks flush as the Avenger turned to face him. He was essentially - if you didn’t count the unconscious robbers - alone with the one and only Clint Barton. The guy who, it dawned on him, had been on Captain America’s team in the fight in Germany.

    Perhaps it was for the best that he hadn’t suited up.

    ‘Watcha still here for, kid?’

    ‘I, uh, I- backpack. I-I left my backpack.’ Damn, he sounded pathetic.

    ‘Your…’ Hawkeye turned around and spotted the grey, bland-looking bag in a corner with the other people’s bags, huffing out an incoherent mumble. He went over, picked it up, and threw it over. Peter didn’t once take his eyes off the archerer as he caught it. How could he have missed how good mr Barton was when they’d been in the same fight? Well, he supposed having a man grow the size of a small skyscraper made you focus on other things. Still though… the guy was much more than anyone gave him credit for. It was obvious now why he was an Avenger.

    ‘I…’ He felt like he should say something. Hawkeye certainly looked like he was waiting for him to say something, one eyebrow cocked up in silent questioning. _You’re great, mr Hawkman- I mean Hawkeye… no that won’t do, uh- you’re really skilled with the bow… but he already knows that, uh... Good job?_

    He opened his mouth. Instead of a string of compliments came a deadpan, ‘My phone.’

    Mr Barton looked back at the pile of stuff, sighed and gestured for Peter to go rummage it for his cell.

    ‘You know, kid, you really need some new survival skills. Don’t go back into an active fightzone just because you wanna tweet about it.’

    ‘I wasn’t gonna…’

    One of the robbers half-heartedly groaned and tried to sit up only to be pushed back down by Hawkeye. The archerer looked expectantly at Peter, similarly to the _now skedaddle_ look he sometimes got from mr Stark. Then he reached to touch his earpiece/hearing aid and began reporting back to someone.

    The hairs on his arms stood up all at once and his eyes snapped to behind the Avenger. Another one of the robbers had gained consciousness and was now aiming his gun straight at the ceiling above Clint. Somehow Mr Barton hadn’t realised yet.

    He leapt forward and managed to push Hawkeye away, hard, sending him flying forwards. At the same time he sent a web to grip the gun and rip it from the robber’s hands. The weapon fired half a second before he could get it, sending out a bright flash. The buzzing rose to an unbearable volume. He doubled over in pain.

    He meant to run, get out of harm’s way, but something held onto his ankle - one of the other men, the same one that had spotted Peter outside the bank trying to take a picture. The ski mask had hiked up over his nose, revealing a grin of bared teeth. He must have figured the teen was the one to tip the Avengers off. His grip was like iron, dooming them both.

    Then the world spun and crumbled.

    Before Peter could react a slab of concrete hit him square in the back, knocking the air out of his lungs and pinning him to the floor.

****

* * *

 

 

It all happened so fast. One moment Clint was reporting to the Committee whilst also patiently waiting for the starstruck kid to ask for an autograph, the next he was sent flying like a ragdoll. He crashed into the receptionist counter, crushing his hip against it in a flash of pain. Shaking his head he tried to regain his sense of direction and locate the new threat; he just about managed to take in the scene in front of him - the kid doubling over in pain, the masked man who was suddenly awake and trying to scramble away from the teen, another one holding onto him and the gun that whipped across the room just like the archerer a second ago. _Shit!_ Clint knew just how unstable the weapons probably were. The lack of skill the criminals had shown when dealing with him told him just how unequipped they were to handle Chitauri tech. They were in over their heads.

    He’d been on missions like these before. After New York, weapons with alien parts integrated into them showed up here and there - especially a few months after. Some threats they left to the police. Some more serious ones they took care of themselves. He’d seen places blow because someone wasn’t careful enough, he’d seen bombs turn on their owners in the blink of an eye.

    This time it seemed like the chaos that ensued was deliberate.

    A blast had hit the ceiling; cracks spidered out from the centre at an alarming rate before the whole thing came down like Sokovia. He closed his eyes to shield them, trying to focus on the counter behind him, reaching out an arm and heaving himself up and behind it. There was a small cavity on the other side where he tried to squeeze in as much of himself as he possibly could. The ground shook with the force of the impact. He clenched his jaw, waiting for it all to be over, the crashing sounds and thickening air overwhelming. Someone was yelling at him through his earpiece.

    _FLASH._

A bright light shone through the cracks forming in the counter and then everything went near silent. He could hear what he supposed to be the loudest rumbles like faraway thunder. The hearing aids had died out. A gun, if not more than one must have been crushed and gone off and Clint had to fight the shockwave lest it sweep him away. His knuckles turned white around the counter’s edges, refusing to let go even as the whole thing got knocked sideways leaving him lying beneath it. More and more of the crushed building was turning into fine sand that threatened to choke him as he breathed it in. Like smoke, only cold. He felt sharp pebbles cut across his skin but never once relented, breathing deeply despite how it hurt, forcing himself to stay calm until it all stopped.

    He dared to open his eyes once the floor didn’t vibrate as viciously anymore. Sunlight shone down through the dust just a few feet in front of him so he braved pushing himself out from underneath his makeshift shelter. As soon as he was free, the counter hit the floor hard and gave out, cracking into two separate pieces. The tiles broke into splinters underneath it. Turning around it hit him how, had it not been for whatever pushed him away, he would be dead and gone by now. Very dead and very gone. The area where he now stood was nothing compared to the disaster zone in front of him.

    If he wouldn’t have been crushed by the debris from the ceiling, the pipes sticking out of the small mountain of cement would have done the job. Jagged edges, leaking out water and filth sharp enough to pierce through a grown man. Or the small shards of glass like salt sprinkled on top of the pile from the broken windows.

    _Oh no. No no no._ Fear spiked cold in his chest through the shock as he hurried forward, hands digging at the rubble in front of him. Somewhere in the back of his head a voice told him to stand down. That it was futile. He couldn’t help it. The sun shone through the levels above that no longer existed, shone upon his bleeding hands as he shoved away a pile of glass and tried to lift another stone. He couldn’t hear whether  someone was screaming for help. Everything was near silent. He didn’t know if he was the only one that had made it.

    That kid was down there somewhere, underneath at least six feet of debris. _No one could survive that,_ the voice in his head persisted. He didn’t let that stop him.

    He remembered Pietro, rushing in front of him. Then this teen somehow ending up in the place Clint was supposed to be just before everything happened. It wasn’t fair. _It wasn’t fair._

The archerer wanted to call out for him, even though he wouldn’t be able to hear the response. Just in case the kid was still alive. Like a promise - _I’m coming for you, I won’t let anyone else die for me._

    He realised that he didn’t even know the kid’s name.

****

* * *

 

 

Tony looked up from his helmet, frowning. He felt as if something was… wrong. He spun slowly in place, trying to place his worry on something, but everything was normal. DUM-E scrubbed away at an oil stain in one corner - he honestly didn’t know why he’d kept the robot with all its incapabilities, but right now it wasn’t up to any trouble.

    There was the thick stack of papers, neat stickers marking the pages he was supposed to read. The new, revised Accords that he was to present to Rogers as soon as he’d paged them through… Reason enough to feel unease, but not like this.

    His gut twisted and turned. It wasn’t Steve, not this time. Something else was wrong.

    ‘Boss,’ FRIDAY began in the artificially concerned tone of voice Tony had created for her to use when something was serious. That couldn’t be good.

****

* * *

 

 

Peter felt his heart run amok in his chest, his mouth open in a scream that was overwhelmed by the rumbling - then by an even louder BOOM as a bright light scorched his eyes. Something had _exploded._ He, along with the debris, was sent flying, tumbling in all directions, only to crash and once more be pinned by more rubble. _Not again, not again!_ He tried to escape, hands searching for purchase only to be hit and held down too, a sharp edge boroughing into his left forearm. Hot, white pain took over his vision. _Not again, please not again! Gotta get out, I gotta-_

    The rumbling stopped. The silence quickly sank down onto him, holding him down with a suffocating grip. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t _breathe._ Flashes of memories took hold of him. Another building burying him. Everything hurting, alone, lungs screaming for air, please, more air, _more…_

 _Not again not again not again!_ He tried to hold back a sob only to cry out at the stab of pain it sent through his chest.

    ‘Help,’ Peter whispered, ‘please, not again, please, someone…’

    He couldn’t see anything. A large, spikey chunk of the ceiling lay mere inches away from his face and his head was too weighed down for him to turn it. The only part that had some leeway was his left leg, but as soon as he shifted it the muscles in his back spassemed and he realised that something painful was pushing at his spine.

    He tried to collect himself. He’d done this before, without the suit on and all. He could do it now, too. He could… he could do it.

    Another flash of memory. Toomes’ toothy smile just before Peter was buried alive, mocking him. Just like that robber’s. He was alone. Couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t breathe.

    A wheezing left his chest.

    The world spun.

****

* * *

 

 

‘Boss, mr Barton is calling.’

    He had been meaning to contact Clint soon about his progress, and perhaps to sneak in a question of whether a particular teen had stood out either by lending a helping hand, or… He huffed out a slow breath. His thoughts were beginning to cross into parental mode. An almost _please tell me my kid did good_ vibe. At least it was better than the worry that clawed at his chest.

    He hadn’t checked in with Clint before now, wanting to prove to himself that he wasn’t that far gone regarding the kid. _The_ kid, not _his_ kid. God knew he wasn’t a good father figure. Even just mentoring Parker - if you could call what he was doing that - was questionable enough. He shouldn’t be this attached, and definitely not this worried over something that was surely nothing at all. The kid was gifted and he’d dealt with this kind of thing before. It would be fine. So he told himself.

    ‘Boss, mr Barton claims that it is a medical emergency.’

    He snapped out of his thoughts, realising he hadn’t answered the AI yet. Some instinctual panic settled over the anxiety in the pit of his stomach, as if he already knew what the call was about. _Mentor-like panic._ As if that still mattered now.

    ‘Put him through.’

    ‘Tony! I- I need doctors on standby ready to go the moment I touch down.’

    Clint didn’t sound quite right. There was a slight hesitation in his voice when he spoke.

    ‘You injured Barton?’

    ‘Yeah, uh… my hearing aids were damaged when the building blew but I got one of them working - this kid Tony… god, I think he saved my life.’

    He quickly regretted ever having wished for Peter to be mentioned at all.

    ‘What kid? What _kid_ Clint?!’

    ‘Some- I don’t know, he wasn’t supposed to be there. He wasn’t… I-’

    ‘What did he look like?’

    There was a paus where only Tony’s labored breaths could be heard through the phone. Then Barton grunted and something heavy fell in the background.

    ‘Young teen. Brown hair, white, uh… I don’t know. I’m not even sure he’s- that he’s still alive, we’re trying to dig him out.’

    Tony stood so fast that his chair fell back with a bang. He stormed through the workshop, summoning his newest armour. He thought back to what Happy had said about this having happened before and Peter walking it off but still, _still,_ he couldn’t help thinking about everything that could go wrong.

    ‘I’ll be there in five minutes.’

    ‘What? Tony, you don’t have to- I already…’ Another grunt. ‘…have police and rescue on the scene-’

    ‘ _Don’t argue with me._ ’ He fell silent for a moment, waiting for the last of his suit to finish assembling. He didn’t want to linger any longer than he had to, he couldn’t leave himself time to think. ‘FRIDAY, direct call to my suit. Tell me everything that happened Clint.’

****

* * *

 

 

There were muffled voices somewhere around him. One above, another to the right, another… Peter stifled a groan, not wanting to open his mouth and breathe in more of the thick dust around him. Its taste made him gag and rasped at his already dry throat. His ears were ringing. He hadn’t noticed that before, but then he’d forced himself to focus on his surroundings, anything else than thoughts and _memories_ and-

    The ringing was almost louder than the muffled voices. He could tell that they were shouting, calling, possibly for him. He focused on wheezing out another breath. Then he focused on not coughing. He knew it would only hurt.

    Who else was trapped like him? Was he the only one or were there others - Hawkeye, had he gotten away? Peter had pushed the man as hard as he could, probably flinging him across the room. He hoped that had been enough but it felt like the whole of Queens was lying on top of him.

    The ringing wasn’t going away, but the voices were. Maybe they thought him lost. _No, please, I’m here! Don’t leave me!_ He had to close his eyes to try to quell the panic; it wouldn’t help the situation. _Come on Peter, you’ve done this before. You can do it again. You’re stronger than this. Come on Spider-man!_

He concentrated on directions. The ground was somewhere beneath him and he lay face down, so the way out was above his back. He steeled himself. Then he whipped sideways, groaning as the debris shifted on top of him but still continued turning, turning, through searing hot pain that snaked through his back and left arm, until finally he was face up. A good start. He yanked his arms free next, feeling the blocks of cement move until they seemed to all point down at his chest and his lungs couldn’t rise, he couldn’t get down any air, he couldn’t- couldn’t-

    He gripped blindly at jagged edges and pushed with all of his might. He’d done this before and he could do it again. Black spots began to protrude on the edges of his vision. His ears rang louder, louder, and his blood pulsed quickly through his veins. He pushed a little more. A little more. He found strength when he thought his last had run out, hearing voices again, closer, getting closer to him. _It shouldn’t be this hard, it wasn’t last time,_ he thought dizzily. _It shouldn’t be this hard._ He cried out angrily, weakly. He could do this. He _must._

    Light. Light streamed down at him and his arms fell back as the last block was shoved to his right, exhausted and drenched in sweat. Above him a woman he didn’t recognise shouted something over her shoulder before turning back to Peter, extending a hand. He realised that the weight was gone from his legs as well. When did that happen?

    It didn’t matter. He was free.

    The ringing was fading but he still felt dizzy as he tried to sit up. Alive. He’d made it. Of course he had, he’d done this before. It was nothing. Nothing.

    So why did it feel like the world was crashing down around him?

    He managed to climb out of the rubble with the unknown woman’s help, looking around, dazed. Hawkeye was standing a few feet away, fiddling with something in his ear as two other people tried to wrap him in an orange blanket. The man turned as if he could feel Peter’s eyes on him, approaching quickly even as he was limping and pushing the others away, yelling something that sounded like orders to god knew who. A hand came down on his shoulder. The archerer's lips moved but all sounds were fussy and barely made sense. It wasn’t because of the blast; the ringing had turned down significantly. Peter knew that he could hear. His brain just wasn’t willing to comprehend any further input.

    He realised that he was gasping, breathing too quickly, the rush of oxygen like a drug to his head. He needed to stop or he would pass out. He knew this, and still he couldn’t do anything. His entire body was shaking, legs struggling to hold him up, all but ready to give out beneath him when he heard a familiar sound behind him that made his heart clench. Repulsors, slowing down, the clank of metal armour hitting the ground, a somehow unbelievably clear sound in the middle of everything else. Someone was calling out his name. His body turned instinctively. He stumbled the few steps into arms that smelled of cologne and coffee and gasoline.

    ‘Peter?! Peter look at me. Come on, focus, _look at me._ ’

    Mr Stark was uncharacteristically disheveled, dressed in stained clothing. Peter hadn’t seen him in anything but a suit - either metal or from a high end brand. Impeccable, billionaire Tony Stark. This strange Tony’s forehead was creased, deep lines furrowing as he raised a hand to the teen’s hairline. It stung. When the fingers came back they were smeared in a paste of red and grey dust.

    ‘You’re okay, kid. You’re okay.’ He didn’t sound convinced.

    Peter let his head fall forward to the man’s chest.

    ‘Hey, buddy- you’re okay, alright? You’re fine. You’re- Clint, where’s the…’

    He closed his eyes, focusing on the warmth surrounding him. He didn’t want to hear the chaos, the sirens, the whispers of worried bystanders and the crackle of police radios. Everything was so _loud._ Tony smelled of gasoline. He wasn’t breathing calmly either, so maybe Peter didn’t need to feel ashamed of his own behaviour. Not right now. He couldn’t do anything else but stand there, his uninjured arm reaching up to hesitantly clutch the back of that stained t-shirt. Mr Stark wasn’t a hugger, he knew that. And yet here they were.

    His fingers cramped around the fabric. He wouldn’t have been able to let go even if he’d wanted to.

    Another memory emerged, one of his mentor this time. _If something happened to you, I’d feel like that one’s on me._ Peter felt like he should apologize, somehow, but that would probably have to wait.

    ‘Come on Parker. Let’s get you out of here, huh?’

    An arm steered him around, moving them forward even as the teen refused to lift his head from Tony’s chest. The sun was unrelenting with its light, the noise unbearable, the smells of sweat and dust and something scorched stung at his nose. His mouth was dry and tasted like ash - he had to push down the reflex to gag.

    Most of it disappeared the moment the Quinjet’s door shut behind them. It wasn’t perfectly sterile or devoid of input, but at least here, he could breathe.

    ‘Come on. Sit down.’

    He yelped as soon as he tried to bend down, a pain he’d ignored until then making itself know. His back was on fire. Tony lowered him to the ground.

    ‘Hey, hey, Parker, work with me here. You gotta work with me. Tell me where it hurts.’

    Peter realised he was moaning and quickly shut his mouth, forcing himself to stay calm. Breathe in, breathe out. Ignore the pain. In, out. Don’t scream.

    ‘Ev-ever-r-rywhere,’ he forced out, gasping. It was both true and it wasn’t - his body was screaming at him to run away as fast as he could and it _hurt_ but he knew it wasn’t because of any physical injuries. It would be fine. He just needed to stop panicking.

    ‘Okay, okay.’ Mr Stark sounded like he was freaking out too now. The metal floor underneath him vibrated as the engines turned on and Peter yelped at the sound. ‘Hey. It’s gonna be fine, it’s gonna be- where, where does it hurt the most Pete? Where… _Shit,_ Barton speed up he’s bleeding!’

    ‘Back.’

    ‘Back? Your back? Okay. Okay.’ Tony fumbled frantically with a hoodie he’d gotten from somewhere before settling on carefully, with shaking hands, lifting Peter high enough to place it under his lower back. ‘It’s okay, shh, it’s okay… Barton, ETA?’

    ‘Fifteen minutes.’

    ‘Make it ten.’

    ‘I don’t have a clear on pushing her faster-’

    ‘ _Dammit,_ if you’re the reason he cools I’m gonna- I- I’ll-’

    ‘Mr… St-tark…’

    Tony’s eyes snapped downwards again. They looked… strange. Watery. Frightened. But Iron Man wasn’t afraid, was he? He couldn’t be. He’d fought off an entire alien invasion. This couldn’t be the worst he’d seen.

    ‘Hang on kid.’ A strong hand clenched around Peter’s numb fingers, refusing to let go. ‘We’re almost there. We’re almost…’

****

* * *

 

 

He held on to the kid’s hand until they landed and the medics had to pry it from his grasp.

    It felt like they were ripping Tony’s heart right out of his chest.

****

* * *

 

 

Steve wasn’t surprised that Stark was late. He figured the man was making a point in doing so and tried to stay calm, but every minute that dragged by with nothing to show for it made him more and more angry. He didn’t want their first meeting after Siberia to be fueled by emotions, he’d made sure to try leave any residual thoughts of the past behind when he stepped inside the facility. But he knew he couldn’t last much longer like this.

    Thirty minutes had gone by and they were still sitting in the conference room waiting for Tony to arrive.

    ‘I’m not doing this anymore,’ Wanda spoke up at her end of the table. Steve had had to work hard to even get her here. He was beginning to regret that now.

    ‘Me neither,’ Sam quipped in. He wasn’t the only one sporting a restless leg.

    ‘Guys, I know it’s been long-’ Rhodey began.

    ‘You’re not gonna defend him, are you? He’s the reason you can’t walk.’

    ‘No, Sam. Look, if you really want to get into it, Vision is actually the reason I-’

    ‘Don’t bring Vis into this,’ Wanda snarled, patience having run out. She stood up resolutely, but before she could barge out or engage in further arguing the door opened to reveal a semi-distraught Pepper Potts.

    ‘Where is he?’ Natasha asked before anyone else had the chance.

    ‘Medbay.’

    ‘Injured?’

    ‘No, um…’ The CEO bit her lip. Steve straightened in his chair. He didn’t know whether to feel concerned or annoyed, so he asked,

    ‘What happened?’

    ‘There was, uh… Clint was out on a mission. He got hurt.’

    ‘Badly?’

    ‘No. Bruised a hip, but he’ll be fine.’

    ‘So Stark is staying to babysit Barton?’ Sam asked, confused.

    ‘Um…’ Pepper was clearly holding back crucial information for one reason or another. ‘He’s…’ She sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as if coming to a difficult decision. ‘Someone else he knew was also hurt.’

    ‘Someone we know?’

    ‘No. I mean, not really, I-’ a frustrated sigh left her lips. ‘To be honest, I really don’t know what to say. Tony’s upset. He’d kill me if he knew I told you that, but it’s the truth. You guys don’t need any more lies between you.’

    ‘He coming here anytime soon,’ Rhodey asked, concerned.

    ‘I’m not sure. I… I’ll go talk to him again.’ Pepper turned with sagged shoulders, stress marking her features as she briskly opened the door again.

    ‘Wait,’ Steve said, getting up from his seat. He didn’t think it was a good decision, and perhaps he would come to regret it - a vulnerable Tony wouldn’t take kindly to him. But still. He couldn’t afford this meeting to turn into another missed opportunity. It was their last chance to mend and the team to get together again. ‘Let me come with you.’

    Pepper looked him over. Twice. He didn’t know what her feelings were regarding him - she’d probably be on Tony’s side if she knew anything about Bucky’s connection to her fiancé’s parents. He could understand that. If it hadn’t been Buck, the last glimpse of his home, the world he’d grown up in, if it had been anyone else - he’d killed them himself. Stark had been a close ally. A friend. But Bucky… he was like a brother, if not more.

    ‘Okay,’ Pepper relented, ‘But if either of you lose your temper, I’ll have to ask you to take it outside. We don’t need another renovation.’

****

* * *

 

 

The kid looked like shit.

    Clint watched him from across the room as a nurse wrapped up small scratches on the archerer’s arms. Tony had never once left, not even when the doctors started yelling at him for obstructing their way. Then he’d backed one step. One small step. He watched the kid like a hawk - and Barton would know what that was like.

    As much as the kid looked like shit, he had to admit that he’d never seen Stark this bad. The guy looked like he was on the verge of a heart attack, face ashen, eyes glassy and red rimmed though no tears had left them yet.

    They’d gotten Clint a new hearing aid - one of his spares - so everything sounded like normal again. It was quiet in here. The exchange on the other side of the room drifted through the space and found its way to him - he wasn’t even trying to listen. Not really.

    Maybe a little.

    ‘Ow,’ the kid complained as a nurse cleaned the cuts on his palms.

    ‘It’s alright. Just breathe with me.’

    ‘I’m fine mr Stark… I just… that was scary, you know?’

    Clint stole a glance at them. This Peter had suffered through what was possibly, and hopefully, the worst panic attack of his life on the Quinjet. Clint had been focused on flying them back to base but even with only one aid working he could still hear those shattered sobs. It took time to recover from something like that.

    ‘Yeah. It was.’

    Peter seemed surprised by Tony admitting that, as if he couldn’t see that Stark was on the verge of losing it himself.

    ‘Next time you make sure to get the suit on, okay? Or you run away.’

    ‘But mr Stark-’

    ‘No, Peter, you _run,_ you hear me? If there’s no way out you call me and you run.’

    ‘You… y-you know I’d never…’

    ‘Yeah.’ A sigh came from the older man. It sounded like something breaking. ‘God kid. I wish you’d…’

    Another nurse approached the pair and the conversation broke off. Peter was hurt but the scans that had been made showed no permanent damage to his spine as they’d feared when the kid lay screaming and writhing in pain in the jet. His arm was bad but apparently would heal within… a few days? Clint assumed he’d misheard that. The forearm was pretty much destroyed - that would take weeks to fade into the inevitable scar. Either way, it seemed most of the severe trauma wasn’t physical but emotional. Understandable, given the circumstances.

    The door to the medbay opened and he glanced to it on instinct only to do a double take. Was that really…? _Well shit._ This wasn’t going to be pretty.

    Tony still had his back to Steve, all attention on Peter, but the kid soon noticed the new-comer and when his eyes went wide Stark quickly turned. And stood up hastily. The room had turned dead silent as if all of the machines had stopped beeping and Barton actually began to wonder if his hearing had gone again. Then Pepper, who’d went in with Rogers but stayed back to observe, stepped between the two men.

    ‘Tony,’ she began.

    ‘No. Don’t _Tony_ me.’ His words were short and clipped, hands balled into fists. ‘What’s he doing here?’

    ‘You were late to the meeting.’

    ‘I’m in medbay, Cap, didn’t you stop to ask if maybe I had a valid reason to be?’

    ‘I did. That’s why I’m here.’

    A frustrated sound escaped Tony. The man was not fit to do this right now. He’d spent all his energy on keeping the kid alive when they still thought he might be dying.

    ‘Mr Barton-’ the nurse beside him protested as Clint got up, grimacing at the pain that flared up from his hip. He was lucky that it hadn’t needed surgery after all. Just a bunch of bruises. He grabbed the crutch he’d been prescribed and used it to limp over to ground zero.

    ‘You alright fellas?’ he asked warily, not sure which side he was supposed to take in the event of a fight. He’d been with Cap in Germany but he’d lived with Tony for going on a month now. They’d gotten to the point where they could eat in the same room without throwing the occasional watchful look at the other. Today the billionaire had even trusted him to save this kid who was evidently important to him, no matter what their relationship was. Clint didn’t want to squander that.

    There was an intense stare off between the the Captain and the billionaire. In the end Steve must’ve seen what everyone else did though; the raw emotion that was so shallowly hidden that it looked like Tony would fall apart at any given moment.

    His eyes softened somewhat. ‘I only came to…’

    ‘Concerned for me Captain? Or maybe hoping to see me finally kick the bucket?’

    ‘You _know_ I don’t want that.’

    ‘Really? Do I?’

    ‘Tony-’

    Spluttering indignant coughs made them all turn on their heels. Peter, who had been sipping water nervously during the stand-off, was now desperately trying to clear his throat. Stark veered in to help before anyone could react, punching the kid’s back until he could breathe again.

    ‘Thanks,’ Peter mumbled as his ears turned red. He fidgeted with the glass using his uninjured right hand and almost began drinking again before freezing, hand mid-air, and deciding against it. Tony took the glass and put it on a table like it was instinct to him. Like the teen’s every wish was his command.

    Clint recognised the dad instinct when he saw it. He had kids himself after all.

    ‘You doing better?’ Pepper asked to fill the silence.

    ‘Um, yeah, yeah,’ the kid answered, unconsciously sinking down into the mattress as all eyes remained on him. Then he paled, hissing out a sharp breath.

    ‘Maybe some painkillers would help.’

    ‘Yeah. I mean if they could, that’d be great, but…’ Peter glanced to Cap and Clint, still wide-eyed. He shut his mouth, swallowing noticeably.

    ‘You enhanced?’

    The kid practically jumped at being addressed by Captain America, looking up and then stubbornly down again, stammering, ‘Wh-what? N-n-no, I mean, I’m just a- a kid, I-’

    ‘It’s okay son. Your secret is safe with me.’

    Tony snorted. A spark of anger was burning in his eyes. He shifted so that he almost entirely shielded Peter from sight.

    ‘I… I’m an intern,’ the kid tried weakly, trying to look past his supposed-mentor’s back. Stark’s intense glare dared anyone to question that.

    ‘Alright. But if for some reason you weren’t… I’m just saying, maybe I could help.’

    ‘What are you playing at?’

    ‘God, Tony…’ Cap sighed out his frustration, taking a moment to collect himself. The faint lines in his face furrowed with tension. ‘The kid’s clearly hurt, and the fact that he’s here and not just at any given hospital… you’d understand why I ask.’

    ‘Actually, I don’t. You’re not needed here, no one asked you to come-’

    ‘If you’d just listen-’

    ‘Gentlemen!’ Clint raised his voice, throwing a hand up in the air to halt the conversation before it could escalate. He realised that he had become the middle ground.

    He glanced at Peter, who was significantly less squished than anyone should be after being hit with all of that rubble. Then he thought back to the mysterious force that had pushed him away not a moment too soon. And another moment, when the rescuers announced that the debris was moving on its own, suddenly easier to lift as if something - someone - was helping them to lift it. Enhanced was sounding more and more plausible by the second. It would explain a lot.

    ‘I think what Cap here is trying to say is, that if Peter by some reason should be… different,’ he amended as he felt Tony’s attention swiftly turn to him, ‘then perhaps Steve’s special stuff would help.’

    ‘The tranquilizers,’ Pepper added. Rogers scrunched his nose in displeasure at the nickname. The team had jokingly called the stronger anesthesia that the doctors had developed should the super soldier ever have to have major surgery tranquilizers, as nothing short of what an elephant would be given could otherwise put him under. It was a jest they’d shared in old times, though, before everything went to shit. Knowing Tony, he’d probably called it that whenever he’d talked about it, hence why Pepper wouldn’t know its real name. Not that anyone else did either. Except for Bruce, wherever he was.

    Stark didn’t nudge. He was still standing with his arms crossed in front of the kid. He did, however, manage not to lash out again before thinking things through.

    ‘Say he was different. What makes you think the stuff I had my scientists make for you - fully funded by me, might I add, not that you thanked me - would help him? Hm? It’s supposed to accommodate for your freaky DNA, no one else’s.’

    Steve shifted on his feet, face falling a little. ‘I don’t know Tony… I’m just saying maybe it would.’

    ‘So you’re saying I should risk my kid’s _life_ because good ol’ Capsicle is having a hunch?’

    Clint’s eyes narrowed on the teen whose head had snapped up, slightly flustered. Brown hair, brown eyes - facial features weren’t that close a match, but… It couldn’t be, could it? He knew the lifestyle the billionaire philanthropist used to enjoy; parties, women… Plenty of it. So it wasn’t that far off to suppose that one of those one night stands had resulted in pregnancy. And Clint had called it, he had. Stark had the dad instinct. That horrific worry that made the Earth stop spinning when your kid was hurt.

    It wasn’t impossible. It wasn’t, but to hide Peter for so long - from the team, the media, everyone - that was impressive.

    Steve seemed to think the same, paling a bit under the scruff beginning of a beard he was sporting.

    ‘Tony… he’s not…’

    ‘What?’ The man turned to the archerer, then the super soldier again. ‘My kid?’

    ‘That’s what you just said.’

    ‘He’s not- _biologically_ mine, _god._ He’s my intern, okay?’

    Behind his mentor Peter’s cheeks were becoming redder and redder as his eyes shone. Tony’s tone of voice was nothing short of dismissal. His words, not as much.

    ‘You care for him.’

    ‘No shit.’

    ‘I’m… not saying just hook him up on the tra- my stuff, just… consult a doctor.’

    ‘Ah, there he is. Captain America, our nation’s prescription label warnings incarnate.’

    ‘I think it’s a good idea,’ Pepper spoke up, looking at her fiancé with soft determination. ‘We could ask if it’s even a possibility anyway. What’s the worst that could happen?’

    Stark softened too. A little bit. He tore his eyes off of Steve like it physically hurt to, turning to her and sighing. The air in the room was slowly turning less and less stale.

    ‘Fine. Fine, we ask.’

    ‘Uh… actually, um…’ Peter raised a hesitant hand into the air, ‘I’m… I’m good.’

    It took them all a few moments to comprehend that sentence.

    ‘Good? _Good?!_ Forty minutes ago you were six feet under-’

    ‘M-mr Stark, really- I appreciate it, but-’

    ‘No no no, let the adults handle this. No more of that self-sacrificing bullshit.’

    ‘B-b-but, don’t you need a-a guardian’s signature or something? You didn’t… mr Stark, miss Potts, you didn’t call May, did you?’

    Pepper threw a look of empathy at the kid and he squeaked out something unintelligible, sinking down into his mattress again.

    ‘Oh man,’ he mumbled, ‘I am _so_ grounded.’

    ‘Yeah, like you weren’t before. Lab this weekend is cancelled.’

    ‘Wha- Mr Stark, please! I was just trying to help!’

    ‘Don’t make me extend it to another week.’

    Clint felt for the teen, both embarrassed and distraught. But he also knew a lot about the nightmare of almost losing a child. Laura and the kids had gone to New York the week of the attack to visit family. He hadn’t been able to check in, see if they were alright, until the most pressing post-battle meetings and debriefs were done and over with. It had been the longest day of his life. He’d lost sleep long after, thinking about the what-if’s and could-have-been’s.

    ‘You shouldn’t be so hard on your old man. You’re gonna make him age twice as fast at this pace,’ he smiled grimly at the teen.

    ‘Intern,’ Stark countered without any real force behind it.

    ‘Yeah, sure. Sure he is.’

    Tony didn’t seem eager to fight anymore - or perhaps he was just going to give Clint the benefit of the doubt now that they were on each other’s good sides. Either way the mechanic just sighed again, like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. A callused hand scrubbed across his face as if that would block out the worst of the situation.

    ‘Okay. Pepper, could you…?’

    ‘I’ll go talk to someone.’

    ‘Thanks.’

    Her heels clicked across the floor as she went up to Stark, planting a quick kiss on his cheek before whispering in his ear. Tony rolled his eyes half-heartedly before mumbling back, ‘Yeah yeah…’ She shot a smile at Peter and a more professional glance at Clint and Cap before heading for the door.

    ‘Mr Rogers,’ she called back, ‘will you join me?’

    ‘Um, yes, I should probably… reschedule the meeting.’

    ‘Twelve’s fine by me,’ Tony stated, a certain arrogance seeping through, ‘though I’d like everyone to have eaten by then. I know how you get when you’re hangry.’

    ‘I’ll make it one in that case.’ Steve straightened up, showing the closest to a manner of respect and neutrality either of the two had in half a year. ‘I hope your… intern gets better.’

    ‘Yeah.’

    ‘I should probably get going too,’ Clint said, clutching his crutch tighter and making it over to Potts and Cap. ‘Gotta talk some things over with Nat before the meeting.’ He ignored the protests from the nurse who had been treating him and limped outside, the beeps from the machine that announced the kid’s fluttering heartbeats fading into the distance. Once outside Pepper nodded her head in a silent _thank you._

    ‘Look, he’s not… actually Stark’s kid, is he?’

    Steve looked over, just as confused as Barton himself. The CEO sighed. She, like Stark, looked like she’d aged with worry.

    ‘Some days it really feels like he is.’

****

* * *

 

 

They were alone now.

    They were still waiting for the nurses to come back with news of the compatibility between him and Captain America’s special stuff. God that sounded wrong. He found himself hoping for bad news. Tranquilizers, Pepper had called them - the name alone was quite foreboding, to be honest. He didn’t want to pass out. He was afraid it would make him revisit old memories and trap him in them.

    ‘I… I really am sorry,’ he tried, picking at the bandage wrapped around his left arm.

    ‘For what?’

    ‘Making you worry.’ He looked up at Tony as soon as he’d said it, figuring he might have overstepped. The man was angry at him. He’d even taken back the invitation to tinker in his personal lab, where he made all of the Iron Man suits, and he’d known how much Peter had been looking forward to that - he must have known.

    The truth was, he didn’t know exactly what he’d done so wrong this time.

    ‘I know it’s not fair to punish you for… getting hurt,’ Tony suddenly spoke up. He sounded unusually sincere. ‘I used to think Pepper was too sensitive when she freaked when I came back battered and bruised and told me she couldn’t take it anymore. But it’s hard to see that side when you’re the one that stopped the bad guys and saved the day.’

    The mentor looked to the door as if making sure they were still on their own. The clock above it ticked on, Peter’s heart making two beats for each one the hand struck.

    ‘Truth is, I think I know how she feels now. I mean, you’re a kid, Parker, whether you like it or not. And you’re my responsibility.’

    ‘I can take care of myself.’ Tony looked him over once, as if that was enough to disprove it. ‘I _can._ Even now, it’s…’

    ‘Nothing? Is that what you were going to say?’

    ‘Yeah, well-’

    ‘Happy told me about Homecoming.’

    _Ah. Shit._

    ‘He, uh… he did?’

    _Shit shit shit._ This was bad.

    ‘You know, for future reference I’d like you to tell me straight away when a building drops on you. As in when it happens, not afterwards - certainly not _weeks_ after the fact.’

    ‘Well, I…’ Peter struggled to find a way to say it that wouldn’t anger his mentor. ‘I didn’t… I mean, I didn’t…’

    ‘Didn’t what? Trust me to save you?’

    ‘No, I-I trust you, I just didn’t have the suit. Or my phone. So how could I…?’

    Tony leaned back in his plastic visitor’s chair. He stayed quiet, thinking, for far too long to be reassuring. Then he crossed his arms.

    ‘We need a panic button.’

    ‘A… panic button?’

    ‘Yeah, a button you press when you’re in imminent danger that lets me know you need me. It’ll ease both of our minds.’ Mr Stark reached out for the web-shooter that lay on a nearby table - Peter had had to remove it for his arm to be wrapped up. The small machine was broken, wires poking out of their casings and web-fluid trickling out in a slow but steady pace. ‘You usually wear these, right? Under hoodies and long sleeves.’

    ‘I-I mean sometimes, sometimes in school like I used to before you gave me the suit. Old habits die hard, I guess. Feels reassuring.’

    ‘Perfect. I’ll fix them up and give them back to you as soon as the button’s installed.’

    He didn’t argue against that. Sure, it did feel childish and unnecessary, but it also felt like something that might just save his life one day. He wasn’t entirely sure what would’ve happened had Tony not come to his aid today. Quite frankly, he might’ve still been dealing with a panic attack in a back alley right now, wondering how he would explain his injuries to May. He would have been alone. That wasn’t a comforting thought.

    ‘When does… I mean, you called May, right? So… is she coming here, or…?’

    ‘Last I heard she was gonna try to get out of a later shift and head up here, but if all you’re gonna do is nap away the afternoon… I guess I could call and tell her you’re taken care of and that she’ll see you at home tonight.’

    A fluttering hope filled Peter’s stomach amid all the miserable feelings that dwelled there. ‘I’ll be going home today?’

    ‘Yes- but only, _only_ if you manage to stand up without yelping.’ Mr Stark was pointing an accusatory finger at him as if saying _and don’t you dare fake being fine, I will know the difference._

    ‘Fair enough.’

    Silence settled between them again. The teen took up fiddling with his bandages again until he caught the disapproving gaze of his mentor and stopped. It was probably best to leave them alone. If he ripped something mr Stark might just burst and come up with another punishment. The man really looked like he was on the breaking point. Peter still didn’t quite get why.

    ‘So… you’re saying that if I agree to take the, uh, the tranquilizers… you could tell May not to come?’

    The billionaire shifted in his chair. His face was neutral.

    ‘Well, if I said you were resting, that’d put her mind at ease.’

    ‘Okay. Okay.’ It was for the best if May didn’t see him like this, all wrapped up in a hospital bed hooked up to a machine. It looked too serious. She’d freak out, and then he’d freak out, and then his mentor would too and then they’d all just be panicking over something that was supposed to be fine. Strangely enough, Peter was beginning to feel like it might just be fine after all if he’d just give himself some time. He didn’t know why - maybe because he had other things to focus on now, like why Captain America was here or why the one and only Iron Man was still sitting by his bedside when he had other matters to attend to. But everything would be fine. He knew it. Just recently it had become fact instead of a frantic mantra.

    ‘Mr Stark?’

    ‘Mm?’

    ‘Please don’t make the panic button too easy to push. I’d hate to call you every time I fall asleep in Algebra.’

    Tony snorted. ‘I thought you liked Algebra.’

    ‘It’s too easy.’

    He laughed quietly.

    ‘What?’ Peter asked curiously. His fingers stopped drumming restlessly against his thigh. A minute ago the man had been irritated, almost anxious, but now he just shook his head.

    ‘Pepper is right. So’s Happy.’ He looked up, meeting the kid’s eyes with a glint of fondness in his own. ‘You act a lot like a young me sometimes.’

 

* * *

 

****

They gathered in the conference room again at one o’clock exactly and settled into the same seats as last time. The one across from Steve remained empty, but only for five minutes this time.

    Tony strode into the room like he owned it - like he always did - and flopped down onto the chair like this was a casual lunch. Everyone looked to him, wondering but not daring to ask.

    ‘The kid?’ Steve braved after a few moments.

    ‘He’s okay.’

    Neither of them elaborated and the focus switched as Stark hefted up a thick pile of papers onto the table.

    ‘I only have one copy, seeing as we need to save the trees and all that. We’ll have to share.’ He glanced up at the Captain who just nodded back.

    ‘We’ll share.’ Like old times.

    It was a smoother start to the negotiations than either of them could have hoped for.

****

* * *

 

 

The tranquilizers - which had been compatible after all - had knocked Peter right out. In some sense it had felt just like being thrashed very suddenly by the Hulk, but without any real pain. One second he was awake, the next - wham, everything went dark and he sighed into unconsciousness.

    A thankfully dreamless sleep greeted him. It seemed like no time at all before he woke up again to the sun beginning to set outside.

    He called May, borrowing a cell mr Stark had left for him to use. She was freaking out but not as much as she could have been. He promised to tell her about what happened when he got home, lying when he said he wouldn’t gloss over the scarier details. A nurse helped him stand. He pushed the groan of pain down his throat and smiled and she signed him out of Medbay.

    FRIDAY told him that mr Stark would be driving him home. It was strange, because it was always Happy who did that, but with Captain America here and everything maybe he wanted to get out. Peter wasn’t actually that sure why the two were fighting more than over the Sokovia Accords, but he’d deducted it was personal after they ran into the super soldier earlier. He didn’t think he’d get to know more than that. The AI directed him to the garage where he was to wait for his mentor.

    It didn’t take long for the man to show up.

    ‘Hey,’ Peter mumbled. Tony didn’t answer. He got into the nearest car - a sleek Jaguar - and waited for the kid to join him.

    ‘Come to the front Parker. It’ll make it easier to talk.’

    His heart skipped a beat as he opened the front door and hopped in. The seat felt more comfortable than even his own bed. It smelled new.

    ‘Wow.’

    They backed out of the garage and sped out towards the highway.

    ‘Maybe I spoke too quickly,’ Tony finally said after ten or so minutes of them awkwardly listening to some kind of rap ballad on a local radio station. Peter hadn’t dared to ask if he could change the music. ‘About lab, I mean. I’m gonna spend some more time in the city now that team Cap are moving in again. I’ve got a penthouse on the upper east side.’

    ‘They are?’

    ‘Yup.’ The harshly popped p left no room for more questions. Peter didn’t push.

    ‘And… and the penthouse, it has a lab?’

    ‘Of course it does, it’s mine.’

    ‘And… I could… come?’

    His mentor sighed, lips tugging up into a small, tired smile. ‘Maybe we could trade one night of patrolling a week for that.’

    It wasn’t a punishment, but it was a way for mr Stark to keep tabs on him and make him cut back on Spider-man. That was the only reason that he hesitated. His thumb stroke the lacquered surface above the door handle, watching his own reflection think in it, realising that that small piece of the car alone was probably worth more than the rent on his aunt’s apartment.

    ‘You know that there’s more ways than one to help stop evil and spread the good and all that, right?’

    ‘It’s not just fighting bad guys, I know. Last week I found a lost cat and returned it to its owner.’

    ‘Good for you, but that’s not what I mean. I’m developing enhanced protheses. For Rhodey, and others. There’s many who need them. You’re a bright kid. If you help, well… A lot of people’s lives are gonna change for the better.’

    Peter looked up, over at mr Stark, whose eyes never left the road but still managed to seem like his full attention was on him. The teen’s heart skipped a beat. This was his chance to work alongside one of the greatest minds of the century.

    ‘Yeah. Yeah, I- thank you. Really. Thank you.’

    ‘It’s nothing, kid.’

    He let his head rest against the window, watching some of Manhattan’s tallest skyscrapers tower in the distance. The sun was slowly descending - if they were lucky they’d still manage to catch the glimpse of it settling over Queens with its golden-red rays. He’d always found that a calming sight. Sure, soon the world would be dark again, but then dawn would come and shine all the brighter for it.

    ‘Mr Stark?’

    ‘Please don’t thank me again.’

    ‘No, it’s not that, just… I really like you, you know.’

    The man sighed, that small smile returning. ‘Yeah, Parker, I know. It’s not like you’re good at hiding it.’

    ‘Oh.’

    ‘Yeah.’ Tony reached out a hand to grasp Peter’s shoulder in sympathy. ‘But you know what, kid? I really like you too.’

**Author's Note:**

> Okay! If you're down here, thanks for reading! I've become so invested in this that I already have a multi-chapter sequel planned in my head :) Whether I'll write it or not, and how fast, still remains a question. Either way it's safe to say im not shying away from writing any more irondad&spiderson fics until i get it out of my system. (which is probably never. gosh i love them so much)
> 
> The last fic I uploaded got a loooot more love than i was anticipating so i've been kinda scared of posting again ever since. It's kind of daunting, you know, feeling like u have to live up to something a lot of people loved. Thankfully I've realised that it doesnt matter how many people this work reaches - hell, if only one person leaves kudos, I'll be stoked! Then at least i made one person's day a little bit brighter :)


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